


Where The Winds Sigh

by hanschen_ril0w



Series: Broken Wishes [2]
Category: Spring Awakening - Sheik/Sater
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, an absurd amount of kissing, and obviously a pickup truck, birthday shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-29 02:09:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17194529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanschen_ril0w/pseuds/hanschen_ril0w
Summary: Georg relaxes against himー this must be it. The way everything is nothing compared to this. This must be how the wind sighs.





	Where The Winds Sigh

**Author's Note:**

  * For [make_easter_gay_again](https://archiveofourown.org/users/make_easter_gay_again/gifts).



> this is a sequel to 'To Shore' and a gift for my friend Simonー you don't have to read the first one in order to understand this, but it's worth giving that one a read for context, anyway!

_And there was nothing more, nothing less, and nothing missing as they drifted on waves of gold to the star-kissed shore._

 

        Since September, Otto has only breathed in the dark.

 

        Day passes with its sunshine and its eyes wide open, hands at its sides and a smile on its lips. Soon it is October, and day is cool and grey. Soon it is November, and day is weak and distant. The light pales and the leaves fall as earth succumbs to the cold. And any other year, Otto would fight the freezing tides and raise his arms to try to lift the setting afternoon sun, imploring winter to just let him have one more season, one more moment to be warm.

 

        But since September, Otto has only breathed at night.

 

        Night means darkness means privacy means peace— and God, Georg is his peace. With each night he comes back, whether to Otto’s rooftop or Georg’s bedroom or somewhere quiet under the sky. With each night he brings peace, with starlight and eyes half-lidded, hands up and down his sides and a smile breaking against his lips. Soon it is October, and night is warm and sweet. Soon it is November, and night is long and alive. And with each passing day and living night, they wander— they wander down, where the waves pulse and the winds sigh and the sins glow golden with a joyful, love-drunk pleasure that feels too heavenly to be hell.

 

        Still, Otto would rather be a fallen angel than never have flown at all.

 

        And fly he does— drive, rather, because it’s mid-December and today is his birthday and today he’s not only legal to drive passengers but he has his uncle’s old pickup truck with which to do it. Aside from this, however, the day has been mildly disappointing. He had gotten his license, driven pointless circles around town, and listened to a used R.E.M. CD his mother had bought for him. Georg had called in the morning—he had had a job interview around midday, and afterwards his mother had the afternoon off, so they were going to take the commuter rail out of town to go see a student orchestra perform at a community college nearby. Otto had been generously invited and had refused, if only because Georg both deserved and needed this rare afternoon alone with his mother. The pair agreed instead to meet that evening, and it had been Georg’s idea to have a picnic under the stars to celebrate.

 

        Hence where they are now— in the dry dusty field right by the shore, listening to the waves. In the bed of his truck, a bottle of lemonade, a sleeve of saltines, and a box of strawberries next to them.

 

        And it is night, hence where they are now— Georg straddling Otto’s lap, connected in a clumsy kiss that turns to a smile and a gasp when Otto slips his hands into Georg’s back pockets and nips his tongue.

 

        Georg leans back, tilting his head and smirking. “I thought you were gonna park on the sand.”

 

        Otto grins back. He’s certain he looks stupid and he’s certain he doesn’t care. “And ruin my tires that easy?”

 

        “But wouldn’t you love the close-up view?” Georg teases. He reaches up all of a sudden, slipping off his glasses and sliding them onto Otto. Otto blinks; the whole sky is a vivid blur, and the ocean blends right into it when Georg turns Otto’s head to face the waves. Georg is snickering, leaning his forehead lazily against Otto’s temple. “The beauty? The _romance_?”

 

        Otto breaks into a laugh too, careless and carefree. He takes the glasses off, glancing down at where Georg’s knees rest on either side of his legs. “You’re such a dork.”

 

        “ _Yo_ _u’re_ such a dork.”

 

        Georg reaches to take his glasses back, but Otto stops him, taking his hands and tracing a thumb over his knuckles instead. He turns his head so they’re facing each other again and looks at Georg. His eyes look a little smaller without his glasses, and he’s staring at Otto blindly. Long eyelashes. Long nose. He looks sweet, _really_ sweet, a natural sort of sweet that comes with an innate softness.

 

        Otto wants to kiss him everywhere.

 

        Georg kind of laughs, half humor and half uncertainty. “I have no idea what you look like right now.”

 

        “Your eyes really suck,” Otto says, grinning.

 

        “Yeah, that‘s the exact diagnosis my optometrist came up with. Like, verbatim.”

 

        Otto laughs. He looks over Georg’s face again, blue eyes and little laugh lines and one or two freckles on his cheek. “I want to kiss you.”

 

        Georg shifts a little on his knees, a subconscious smile in his eyes. “I don’t know where your lips are.”

 

        Otto lets go of his hands, and in a moment, he’s holding onto Georg’s hips, gently coaxing him closer in, and he’s tilting his mouth up so his lips brush Georg’s.

 

        “Oh.” Georg leans in. “There.”

 

        Otto’s eyes flutter shut. He tilts his chin up, kissing Georg and feeling him kissing back, and he’s moving his arms to wrap around Georg’s waist and hold him there against his chest as if they can’t possibly be close enough.

 

        Georg breaks this kiss, holding Otto’s face in his hands and kissing a line along his cheekbone to his ear.

 

        Otto can feel Georg’s joking smile just before he speaks. “Anyway, I was just saying, I thought _you’d_ want to park as close to the water as possible.”

 

        Otto reaches a hand down, picking up Georg’s glasses at long last and sliding them back onto his nose. “There.” He leans back, as if to admire his handiwork, then fixes Georg with a shit-eating grin. “Well if _you_ wanna be that close to the water...” He makes as if to get up, squeezing Georg’s thigh and taking his hand. “Come on, we’re going skinny dipping.”

 

        Georg immediately yelps in protest. “It’s December!”

 

        Otto snorts. “But wouldn’t you love the close-up view? The beauty? The _romance_?”

 

        “Ha. Gay.” Georg laughs, climbing off Otto’s lap to settle next to him.

 

        “ _Yo_ _u’re_ gay.”

 

        Georg grabs three crackers at once and shoves them in his mouth. “I’m not going skinny dipping.”

 

        “I’m kidding, duh.” Otto raises his eyebrows, still smiling. “But maybe on my _half_ -birthday.”

 

        Georg turns his head and laughs. “Deal.”

 

        A moment passes. Otto leans to his side and rests his head on Georg’s shoulder. The pulse of the ocean and the sigh of the night hold their breath as Georg takes Otto’s hand, raising it to his lips for a quiet kiss before holding it to his heart. Holding _him_ to his heart.

 

        “You’re cute,” Otto says mildly.

 

        “ _Yo_ _u’re_ cute.”

 

        “What if we lived in the same building?”

 

        “Psssh.” Georg picks up the lemonade, taking a sip. “I don’t know.”

 

        “Like, if my family lived in one apartment and you and your mom lived right upstairs.” Otto moves in closer to Georg’s side. “And we’d run into each other in the stairwell.”

 

        “Right, on your way to macho sailor man practice.” Georg nods sagely.

 

        “Exactly. And we’d start talking, and I’d listen to you playing your piano, and I’d climb out the window and up the fire escape to knock on your window. It’d be a whole thing.”

 

        “Shit, I sound like such a boy-next-door.”

 

        “That’s it!” Otto takes the bottle from Georg, swigging from it as if they’re sharing a bottle of wine and not store-brand lemonade. “You’d totally be my boy-next-door.”

 

        “I would _not_.”

 

        “Oh, cut me a break. You’ve got the glasses, the personality, your little canvas jacket or whatever…”

 

        Georg pokes Otto’s chest with one finger, eyebrows arching halfway up his forehead. “Okay, the glasses are obviously a medical thing, and my personality is, you know, it’s, my personality is _not_ that boring. Boys-next-door are _barely_ fleshed-out. They’ve got, like, two character traits. _Three_ at best, Otto. And the jacket’s anー”

 

        “I’m saying thatー”

 

        “... and you own, like, nine sweaters, which is a _major_ boy-next-door move if you ask me. Seriously, a boy-next-door is dumb and a coward and I am _not_ aー”

 

        Otto bursts into laughter. “I’m calling you cute, Georg.”

 

        “Whatever you say, Otto-next-door.” Georg shrugs, pulling his jacket tighter around him and failing to stifle a smile. “I think it’d be more like playing house, though.”

 

        It’s not very graceful, but Otto swings one leg around and maneuvers himself so he’s sitting between Georg’s legs, face to face. “Like what?”

 

        “Like when we used to play house. Remember? It was Ernst’s favorite game in kindergarten.”

 

        “Didn’t Ilse always make you be the kid?”

 

        “No, Ilse always made me be the middle child.”

 

        “Right! And I was the mailman.”

 

        “Lucky.”

 

        “Aw, but you got to be _middle child_ ,” Otto teases, leaning in to drape his arms around Georg’s shoulders. “Hanschen and Ernst were your parents.”

 

        Georg stares at him solemnly, gesturing with his head to the lemonade beside them. “I drink to forget.”

 

        “Okay, though, living in the same building would be like being a… middle child and a mailman under Hanschen Rilow’s patriarchy?”

 

        “No, smartass.” Georg laughs anyway. “It’s like the times we used to play when someone was out sick with the flu or something. We’d get to be, like, dads, and we’d have a dog and everyone would think you’re such a hardass but then when you think no one’s watching you’d scoop up the puppy and give him a little kiss on the forehead and wait for him to fall asleep in your lap.”

 

        “That sounds really cute, barring the fact that Ilse usually made Moritz be the dog.”

 

        “I’m gonna ignore everything you just said. I’m ignoring that.”

 

        “And if we had a dog I would _not_ be a hardass just because everyone else is watching.”

 

        “Otto.”

 

        “Also house is such a boring game thatー”

 

        “I’m calling you _cute,_ Ottー”

 

        Otto slides forward, arms thrown around Georg’s neck, effectively cutting him off with a kiss square on the lips. Georg makes the slightest sound as if he’s finishing his sentence, and Otto bites back a grin as he arches his shoulders back so the pair of them are chest to chest. Georg relaxes against him. And the way they breathe barely apart from one another, the way their skin feels warm and delicate in the chill, the way each looks a quiet sort of beautiful to the other in the shadow of the winter starlightー this must be it. The way everything is nothing compared to this. This must be how the wind sighs.

 

        Otto pulls away to take a breath, their foreheads still touching. Before he reconnects the kiss, Georg raises a finger to Otto’s lips. “I brought you something.”

 

        Immediate protest. “Georg, you didn’t have tー”

 

        But Georg is already reaching into the paper bag he brought the box of strawberries in, pulling out a parcel wrapped in newspaper. He slips it into Otto’s palm, and he keeps his hand there for a moment before letting go. “I know you said not to get you anything and it’s fine and I shouldn’t stress over it, but I saw this at this little antique junk store kinda place and I thought of you.”

 

        Otto peels the paper back, and now he’s looking down at a miniature metal anchor with a clock set in the center. A pocket watch. There’s a piece of yarn tied to the top where a chain must have been decades before.

 

        “ … and I figured you could hang it from the rearview or keep it in your pocket or something… it’s not worth a lot like the music book you got me or anything and I wanted to get you something really nice but I didn’t want you to be mad and I don’t know why I’m still talking when—”

 

        Otto pulls Georg into his arms in a tight, silent embrace.

 

        “Oh.” Georg’s arms come up after a moment to return the gesture.

 

        A moment passes of just stars and sea and night and touch before Otto releases his grip, hands coming to rest on Georg’s shoulders as he looks him right in those silver-blue eyes. He opens his mouth and no sound comes out.

 

        “Do you like it?”

 

        Otto doesn’t dare break eye contact. If there’s one thing he values, it’s sincerity, because sincerity is difficult and sincerity is frightening but sincerity is so, so important. “Thank you.”

 

        “Really? I know it’s not, like… it’s not…”

 

        “Thank you. Really.”

 

        There may have been a time when Georg would continue to deflect, when insecurity would blur his sight like a stubborn smudge on his glasses. Perhaps three months ago, Otto would have struggled for days to let himself express genuine gratitude or care, and Georg would have struggled for just as long to accept it. But it is no longer September and it is no longer the beginning. It is mid-December and today is his birthday and today Otto doesn’t feel older, but he feels like he is growing and changing and becoming someone he thinks he might like to be. Someone who smiles and feels and expresses and loves. Someone who allows himself to be thankful. Someone whose everything is now reaching up to touch his chest right above his heart, taking the collar of his shirt between his fingers in a fleeting, spontaneous little gesture. And when Georg looks back up to meet his eyes and says “You’re welcome,” Otto knows they understand each other.

 

        “I have one more thing.”

 

        Otto is quiet, and without his objection, Georg reaches once more into the paper bag and procures a white box tied with a red piece of string. “It might be a little smushed, but…” He holds his breath while Otto unties the ribbon, opening the lid, and sees what’s inside.

 

        A cupcake with “17” written in white frosting on top.

 

        Georg pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, a hint of nervousness in his posture. “Chocolate. Your favorite. I went to the Wheelans’ to see if I could get something small for tonight and if they didn’t have anything sweet I was honestly just gonna get pickles to bring you ‘cause you could stick a candle in a pickle and it wouldn’t be the _worst_ birthday cake ever but they had a fresh batch of these cupcakes this morning since apparently they’ve been selling pretty well and”ー Georg pauses to breathe ー“Anna’s mom let me have it for half price. Discount for Otto Lammermeier’s birthday. She insisted.”

 

        Otto bites his lip to try to fight off a dumb smile, but his lips curl up anyway. Anna Wheelan had been his best friend even before they dated briefly and confirmed that Otto was gayer than he’d previously thought. Now that he’s thinking of it, she might have even been the first friend he ever made. And, since it’s a small world and a small city, Anna and Georg grew up going to the same synagogue and building up a strong friendship in their own right.

 

        She’s also the only one of their friends who knows they’re together.

 

        Georg is rifling through his pocket, and Otto carefully slides off his lap so they can put the cupcake between them. He flattens the box to serve as a makeshift plate just as Georg pulls out a box of party candles and a lighter he must have taken from his mother’s cabinet over the sink. Otto watches as he pulls a single blue candle from the box and sticks it in the frosting. The lighter makes as if it’s going to cooperate when Georg flicks the sparkwheel, but when only a spark hops up, he swears through his teeth and tries again. Another spark and still no luck and now Otto’s chuckling.

 

        “Shut up,” Georg says in dull bitterness, turning it over in his hands.

 

        “Do you want me to…?”

 

        “Nope. I’m gonna do it.”

 

        He gives it one more shot, brow furrowed in amusingly intense concentration, and the lighter sparks into a flame. God, If Georg weren’t holding fire, Otto would lean across the cupcake to kiss that dumb triumphant smile right off his face.

 

        The candlewick lights easily with a gentle glow and Georg puts out the lighter, stashing it back in his jacket pocket. And Otto’s about to say something but nothing comes out because Georg takes a deep breath and the candlelight is reflecting gold on his glasses to match the silver in the sky and now he’s singing.

 

        “ _H_ _appy birthday to you, happy birthday to you,_ ” Georg sings. His voice is just barely shaking, as if the breeze blowing from the ocean heard his voice and cared to join in. “ _H_ _appy birthday, dear Otto.”_

 

        Good lord.

 

        Otto wants to kiss him everywhere.

 

        “ _Ha_ _ppy birthday to you._ ”

 

        This feeling. This is how the wind sighs.

 

        “Stop looking at me like that and make a wish.”

 

        Otto lets himself grin, ducking his head to blow the candle out. “Done.”

 

        Georg slides the candle out and places it on the cardboard. He carefully peels the wrapper off the cupcake, splitting it into two halves and handing the larger one to Otto. Within a minute, the cardboard is cast aside and Otto is back by Georg’s side, eating his half in three hungry bites and looking up at the constellations where they shine clear and full in the night sky.

 

        “I think I…” Georg finishes his half of the cupcake and looks down. He’s tapping the fingers of one hand on his thigh, tapping out a melody even though there are no keys in sight. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot, and I… You know, it’s been since, what, this fall, and only Anna, and…” He gulps. “I think I want to tell people about us.”

 

        Otto slips his hand into Georg’s, and the silent sonata comes to an end. He squeezes his hand and looks down.

 

        “I like you, Otto. I… really like you.” Georg coughs. “And it’s like, we’ve been friends for as long as i can remember, since before we had any idea that we…”

 

        Georg seems to be collecting his thoughts. Otto kisses his shoulder quickly, a quiet attempt at comfort. He waits for him to continue.

 

        “I really. Really like you. And now we’re us. And I really, really like us, too. And I don’t know if you’re ready, or what, or maybe you aren’t, but I think I am.“

 

        Otto just sits there, looking dumb and happy and warm.

 

        Georg turns his head to stare at him. “What?”

 

        “I like us, too, Georg.” His free hand comes up, finding Georg’s chin. Cups his jaw. And just like that, Otto closes his eyes and kisses him, hands still interlocked at his hip. “I really like us.” Georg is trying to hide his excitement, so Otto unlaces their fingers and throws his leg over Georg’s lap and settles so he’s sitting right on him and takes his face in both hands and kisses him deeper. “I really, really like _you_.”

 

        Georg almost sighs, but it’s more of a shallow breath against Otto’s lips as he smiles. He looks dazedー glassy eyes dark with simple pleasure. “Can we?”

 

        Otto wants to kiss him everywhere.

 

        On his lips, on his neck, on his back.

 

        In the bed of his pickup truck, in the park, in the presence of their friends.

 

        “I want to.”

 

        To be his someone.

 

        To be his everything.

 

        To have his broken wishes and broken wings and unbreakable peace as they drift on waves of night to the sunlit shore.

 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! i'd love to hear from you so please drop by in the comments or come talk to me on tumblr @hanschen-ril0w


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